KIERAN POV
I waited until midnight.
The camp was quieter then, most soldiers asleep or drunk from celebrating their "victory." Guards patrolled in lazy circles, not expecting trouble from inside their own camp.
Why would they? We were all on the same side.
Except I wasn't anymore.
I crept between tents, my heart hammering so loud I was sure someone would hear it. Every shadow looked like a guard. Every sound made me freeze.
The prisoner cages stood at the eastern edge of camp, far from the main fires. Smart—keep the "animals" away from civilized soldiers.
Three guards stood watch. I'd counted earlier during dinner, memorizing their patrol patterns while Finn talked nervously about tomorrow's march.
"Five more villages," Finn had whispered. "Kieran, we can't do that again. We can't kill more children."
"I know," I'd said quietly.
"So what do we do?"
I didn't answer. Because what I was planning would get me killed if anyone found out.
Now I pressed myself against the back of a supply tent, watching the guards. One was dozing. The other two were talking, not paying attention.
I had maybe ten minutes before the next patrol came around.
My hand shook as I pulled out the small knife I'd stolen from the kitchen tent. Not much of a weapon, but it would have to work.
The silver-haired orc warrior sat in the center cage, chained to the bars. Even wounded and beaten, she sat straight, defiant.
I'd watched them interrogate her that afternoon. Commander Voss himself had asked questions while soldiers hit her. She'd answered in orcish—probably curses from the way Voss's face reddened.
"Break her fingers," he'd finally ordered. "We march at dawn. I want answers by then."
They'd tried. She'd screamed but told them nothing.
Now she watched me approach with hatred burning in her amber eyes.
"You," she spat in rough human speech. "Come to finish killing me?"
"No." I glanced at the dozing guard. Still asleep. "I'm getting you out."
She stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Why?"
"Because what we did today was wrong. Because you're not an animal. Because—" I fumbled with the cage lock, my hands shaking. "Because I found Church supply crates in your village with dates from before the war started. Because nothing about this makes sense."
"You saw the crates." Her voice went deadly quiet. "The weapons they gave us."
My blood turned cold. "What?"
"Church men came three weeks ago. Said they were gifts. Tokens of friendship. We were fools to trust them." She laughed bitterly. "They gave us weapons, then attacked us for having weapons. Perfect trap."
The lock clicked open. I swung the cage door wide.
"Why tell me this?" I asked.
"Because you're either very brave or very stupid to help me." She stood, wincing from her wounds. "Either way, you deserve truth before they kill you for this."
"They're not going to—"
"Boy." She gripped my shoulder with surprising strength. "The moment you open this cage, you become enemy. Traitor. Oathbreaker. You understand?"
I thought about Mira back home, pregnant with our child. About Elara, who'd promised to protect our family. About the life I'd had before conscription—boring, safe, pointless.
"I understand."
"Then you're braver than I thought." She limped toward the cage opening. "Or stupider. Probably stupider."
"Wait." I grabbed her arm. "Tell me your name."
"Why?"
"Because if I'm going to die for saving you, I should at least know who you are."
She studied me for a long moment. Then nodded. "Ashara. My name is Ashara Fireborn."
"Kieran Ashfeld."
"I will remember your name, Kieran Ashfeld. When they execute you tomorrow, I will sing it to my ancestors." She stepped past me. "Now run, while you still—"
"You there! Stop!"
One of the guards had woken up.
Everything happened too fast.
The guard shouted for help. Ashara grabbed a sword from the nearest rack despite her injuries. More guards appeared from between tents.
"Run!" I yelled at her.
"Not without you, stupid boy!" She cut down the first guard who reached us. "You freed me—now we both escape or both die!"
We ran.
Behind us, horns blasted. The entire camp erupted into chaos. Soldiers poured from tents, grabbing weapons.
"There! The traitor Ashfeld freed a prisoner!"
"Kill them both!"
Arrows whistled past my head. Ashara pulled me behind a supply wagon as more guards blocked our path to the forest.
"We're trapped," I gasped.
"Then we fight." She pressed the bloody sword into my hands. "Can you use this?"
"I... yes. But—"
"No buts. You freed me. Now prove you deserve to survive."
Soldiers surrounded us. Twenty at least, with more coming.
Then Ser Davos pushed through the crowd, his face twisted with rage and something else. Hurt. Betrayal.
"Kieran." His voice shook. "What have you done?"
"The right thing." I raised the sword. "What we did today wasn't war, Davos. It was murder."
"They're orcs!"
"They're people!" The words exploded out of me. "I saw a mother singing to her baby! I found Church weapons in their village from before the war! We're the monsters, Davos! Can't you see that?"
"I see a traitor who's thrown away his honor for an orc." Davos raised his sword. "Stand down, Kieran. Last chance."
"I can't."
"Then you'll die."
Davos charged.
I barely blocked his first strike. He was stronger, faster, better trained. Every swing drove me backward.
Ashara fought beside me, taking down guards despite her wounds. But there were too many. Always too many.
A blade sliced across my arm. Pain exploded. I stumbled.
"Kieran!" Ashara grabbed me, pulling me behind her. "Stay up!"
"Can't... too many..."
Then the world exploded.
A massive blast of green fire erupted from Ashara's hands, slamming into the guards and sending them flying. The flames didn't burn—they felt like wind, like earth, like growing things.
Magic. Orc shamanic magic.
"Run!" Ashara screamed, pulling me toward the forest. "NOW!"
We ran while soldiers recovered from the blast. Arrows chased us into the trees. Shouts echoed behind us.
We crashed through the forest for what felt like hours. My arm bled freely. Ashara limped badly from her earlier wounds. But we didn't stop.
Finally, when my lungs were burning and my legs refused to carry me further, we collapsed beside a stream.
"You have magic," I gasped.
"All orcs do. Connection to earth." She pressed moss against her bleeding side. "Your Church fears it. Wants to steal it somehow."
"That's why they want your lands."
"Partly." She looked at me, her amber eyes reflecting moonlight. "There's more. Things I heard from elders before... before your people killed them all."
"Tell me."
"Not yet. First we survive tonight." She stood, wincing. "They'll hunt us. Commander Voss doesn't forgive traitors."
"Where do we go?"
"My people have camps deeper in mountains. If any survived." Her voice cracked slightly. "If they're still alive."
A horn blasted from the direction of the human camp. Hunting horns. They were coming.
"Can you walk?" Ashara asked.
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
We limped deeper into the forest, leaving a trail of blood behind us.
Behind us, I heard Davos's voice carrying through the trees: "ASHFELD! You can't run forever! Voss has trackers! They'll find you by dawn!"
Ashara pulled me behind a massive tree. "He's right. We can't outrun them like this."
"So what do we do?"
She met my eyes. "I use magic to hide our trail. But it will exhaust me. If they find us anyway, I won't be able to fight."
"Do it."
She pressed her hands against the earth. That same green light glowed between her fingers. The forest itself seemed to shift, branches moving to cover our tracks, moss growing over our bloodstains.
When she finished, she collapsed against the tree, barely conscious.
"Ashara?"
"Sleep," she mumbled. "Need... sleep..."
Her eyes closed.
I sat there in the dark forest, holding a sword in one hand and supporting an unconscious orc warrior with the other, listening to hunting horns getting closer.
I'd betrayed my people. Freed the enemy. Become a traitor and oathbreaker.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered: what had Father's Church friend whispered to Commander Voss about me?
Had they known I'd break? Had they planned this somehow?
The horns sounded again, closer now.
Dawn was coming.
And with it, judgment.